Page 2 of Tutoring Mr. Hotshot

Maybe later if my work takes me away.

Then again, I don’t see that happening either. I love this place too much, despite its foolish preferences.

“You always have time for me, Ro. Besides, it’s not like you have anything important to do. You’re probably just going home to be nerdy and shit since you don’t date or party like a normal college kid.”

There’s that fucking word.

Normal.

I haven’t been normal since the day I was born.

Everything I’ve done has been at an abnormal pace. It’s why I’m in the position I’m in now, dealing with a man the same age as me but who can’t seem to fucking mature past his early teens.

Sighing, I grip the strap of my bag and call it done. “Look, I don’t care if you think I’m not normal, Liam. We’ve been down this road before. I really do have somewhere else to be.”

I turn to leave, only to be stopped by a firm grip on my forearm. Liam’s hand holds tight, his gaze hard.

“I didn’t say we were done talking,” he growls.

“But I did.”

He squeezes tighter at the bite in my voice. He’s not at all happy to be called out, especially in a place as public as the quad. There may not be a lot of people here, but the ones that are will surely spread word of our altercation.

Before he can say another word, his phone rings. He pulls it out with his free hand, answering with a gruff, “Hello?”

I can’t hear the other person, though I have no doubt it’s one of his teammates. Whatever they say has him easing his grip.

“Yeah, I hear you. I’ll come now.” He hangs up, then tugs me closer. “You’re lucky I have to go meet my new teammate or else I’d show you just what disrespecting me brings you. It’s been so long, you must have forgotten.”

With a shove, he tosses me aside and turns to jog away. I’m left standing there, cradling my arm as I fight back tears — partially in pain from his grip but more so in relief he’s gone.

He’s such an asshole.

I wish I could get rid of him. He’s the worst of the group, and I think the others would stop if he did. Or at least, they’d let up some.

Unfortunately, that will likely never happen. My brother would step in to help if I told him. His presence tends to make things worse though. I don’t know how much more I can handle from them.

Putting my head down, I finish the trek to my car as I ignore the ache in my arm. My skin is tan enough it likely won’t bruise. If it does, I know a few tricks to cover them. I’ve been on the wrong side of a punch or two in my day. I’m used to this.

CHAPTER2

Andry

I groan at the sight of my jersey.

“I'm going to look like a fucking turtle in this thing,” I mumble. Don't need Coach to hear me complaining this soon.

He stepped out on a limb by recruiting me. Even made sure that I got here ok and roomed with people on the team.

It's not every day you get an offer to be a foreign exchange student to America just because you're really fucking good at hockey.

Yet here I am.

Andry Rykov.

The first in my family to leave our home country. Definitely the first one to go to college.

My family all work in the coal mines back home. They spend their days digging in the dirt, trying to make a living.

---